


Words Without Sound

by Piplover



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Happy Gay Farmers, Injury Recovery, M/M, Medicinal Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-02-26 19:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18723814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piplover/pseuds/Piplover
Summary: The worst dreams were not his nightmares.  He had faced blood and death since being a young man, had held his brothers as they breathed their last, honored their spilled blood with prayers and remembrances.  When he dreamt of them, of their faces which had once smiled without blood marring their teeth, he welcomed their presence, as it reminded him of their lives.No, the worst dreams, the ones which left him breathless and shaking in his bed, were those in which he was hale and healthy again.





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-ed, please let me know if you find something.

The worst dreams were not his nightmares. He had faced blood and death since being a young man, had held his brothers as they breathed their last, honored their spilled blood with prayers and remembrances. When he dreamt of them, of their faces which had once smiled without blood marring their teeth, he welcomed their presence, as it reminded him of their lives.

No, the worst dreams, the ones which left him breathless and shaking in his bed, were those in which he was hale and healthy again. 

In his dreams he ran with the carefree grace of a youth, with the surety of one who has never had to question if their limbs would do as they were bid. He would laugh, in his dreams, for the sheer purpose of it, at the strength in his body and how he wielded it. 

Or he would dream of marching, the sun warm on his face as sweat trickled down his back, the straps from his gear rubbing painful, chafing marks on his body that he would moan and teasingly complain about with his fellow soldiers as they oiled the marks and secretly took pride in them. 

Always, in these dreams, he was whole; strong and powerful, with his body listening to his commands and doing as he bid.

Then would come the wakening, and immediately he would know the world as it truly was, for his leg pained him more powerfully on these nights than any other. His body would tremble, and sweat pool in the hollow of his chest, leaving him sticky and humiliated with the scent of sickness about him.

Even now, two years after restoring the Eagle and his family’s honor, his dreams taunted him, teased him with the memory of what had been. It was a secret shame, a hurt he held close to his heart, as he had once held the shame of the Eagle close to his breast in the wooden talisman of his father. 

Esca, sleeping soundly on the bed opposite him, would sometimes wake when Marcus could not control the small gasps of loss and pain that would break free from his throat. On these nights he would move silently, pressing gentle, cool fingers to Marcus’ brow, whisper quiet prayers in his own tongue and make a drink of wine and herbs that always tasted bitter upon Marcus’ lips. 

Today, the first snow of the season had begun, and the air was chilled and moist, creeping into Marcus’ bones no matter how many blankets and furs he piled about him. He had done his best to help with the chores, grooming the horses and feeding the chickens and goats, before Esca had ordered him to return to their house, where he could cook the meal for that night. 

Their home was small yet, built with their own hands and the help of local freedmen who knew how to cover any small holes in the wattle and daub so that winter’s fingers could not find their way inside. Even now, with the wind picking up and the scent of snow heavy in the air, their home smelled only of wood fire and stew, a bright spot of warmth in an otherwise cold, white world.

When Esca entered, covered in two warm wool blankets and his cloak, his hair held the faint dusting of new fallen snow. He shook his head like a dog, a smile pulling his lips to the side in a pleased grin as he looked to his friend, bundled in front of the hearth and adding herbs to the pleasant smelling stew. 

“The animals are ready for the storm,” he said, removing his damp coverings and settling beside Marcus to warm his hands by the fire. “It will be a hard snow tonight.”

Marcus shivered, despite having a blanket draped about his shoulders, and found a smile for his friend. 

Esca, ever attuned to Marcus’ thoughts and moods, lost some of his smile as he took in his hunched form. “Your leg bothers you tonight?”

There was no use in lying to one who knew him so well. Better, some days, than he knew himself. 

“It’s fine. The snow always makes it ache more, but it will pass.” He rubbed absently at the old scar, feeling the skin prickle and tingle in warning. “I do not think it will be a restful night for me, though, and for that I apologize in advance for disturbing your sleep.”

Esca rolled his eyes, and shoved easily at Marcus’ shoulder with his own.

“You know I do not care,” he said, a hint of iron in his voice as his grey, piercing eyes met with the Roman’s. “Your pain is my pain.”

Marcus lowered his gaze, shame tingeing his cheeks pink, for he knew Esca was right. They two were closer than kin brothers, closer than battle brothers, and when one was pricked, the other bled. They were tied by bonds stronger than any word could encompass in either of their language, and Marcus would not dishonor that bond by making less of Esca’s friendship. 

They spoke of lighter things, then, as they ladled out bowls of fragrant stew and Esca slathered thick honey over Marcus’ bread, his lips once again smiling as he seemed to enjoy Marcus’ enjoyment over the meal. 

It was only as they were finishing cleaning out their bowls with snow melted in a large bucket by the fire that Esca said, matter-of- factly, “At the market, two days ago, there was a surgeon.” 

Beside him, Marcus went tense, as he usually did at any mention of surgeons and their trade, but Esca continued calmly, his voice soothing in it’s gentleness. 

“He had some herbs I had not seen before, green, and shaped like a palm. It smells horrible,” he added, with a bright flash of teeth, “but he said that it would ease pain and calm dreams.”

Marcus frowned, though in thought and not distress, and said, “I think I know of it. It sounds like an herb used during celebration and certain rights, to bring enjoyment and laughter. I had heard it had other uses, though have never tried it.”

Esca nodded, then turned to gather some of the mending that always needed to be done. “I’ll make you some tonight, before bed.” His words were final and Marcus knew there would be no arguing with him. 

Instead, he turned to his own task, whittling a small figure which he kept mostly hidden from Esca’s eyes, as it was intended for a gift come Saturnalia. 

They worked together in comfortable silence, every now and then murmuring to the other a quite or funny thought that came to mind. It was peaceful, and neither man had it in his heart to break the stillness with idle, pointless chatter. 

As they prepared for bed, adding another log to the fire to fill the house with warmth and piling more furs to their mattresses, Esca set about crushing the dried, green herb into a pungent powder, which he made a ridiculous face at and earned a laugh from Marcus for his trouble. He added undiluted wine to the mix, and stirred it until it was a thick froth. 

“I would drink it quickly,” he advised, handing Marcus the cup with mirth in his eyes at the face the Roman made at the smell. 

Used to drinking vile concoctions, Marcus downed the cup quickly, though he found himself coughing at the horrible, oily taste not even the wine could disguise. For one horrible moment he thought he would be sick, and Esca watched him closely, as though expecting the same, his feet carefully out of distance.

"Mithras, that is the most horrible thing I have ever put in my mouth!,” Marcus finally managed to gasp, squinting his eyes closed as he shook his head, trying to dispel the taste from his mouth through sheer will. 

“Worse than raw rat?” Esca asked doubtfully, moving closer now that it appeared his friend was in no danger of losing his dinner and sitting on the bed next to him. 

“Worse!” Marcus confirmed, and once more grimaced. “Water?” he asked, and Esca knew from that plaintive word that it had truly been just as bad as Marcus made it out to be. 

He brought him another cup of snow melted water, still biting cold, and Marcus downed it at once and then finally seemed to relax. 

Though Esca trusted the word of the surgeon, for the man had been very well spoken of by both Britons and Romans, he still held vigil over Marcus’ side until the other’s eyes started to droop, and all the tension seemed to drain out of his body. 

“All is well?” he asked, just to be certain, and Marcus smiled lazily up at him. 

Esca could not help but laugh at the drugged, goofy look on his friend’s face. “Lay down, before you topple over,” he said, and helped Marcus lay back on his bed, as the Roman had become loose-limbed and not quite certain in his movements. 

“The taste is truly horrible, like how I image Mars’ dick to taste after a hot day,” Marcus mumbled, and Esca laughed harder at the vulgar words from his usually reserved friend. 

“And you know how dick tastes?” Esca couldn’t help but tease, moving the furs closer to Marcus’ body. 

“Oh, yes,” Marcus sighed, and his eyes closed as he seemed to remember. “I was young, once, and beautiful, you know. Soldiers had very little to do at times.”

At Esca’s incredulous silence, Marcus slitted his eyes open and laughed, bright and loud, at his friend’s expression. 

“I think I may have given you too much,” Esca said finally, though he could not keep the humor from his tone as Marcus giggled beside him. 

“I feel wonderful,” Marcus assured him, and clumsily patted Esca’s leg. “I feel better than I have in some time!” 

Esca took the fumbling hand and enclosed it gently in his own. 

“Oh, Esca,” Marcus sighed, his eyes drifting closed again. “Would that I was younger and whole again. I would suck your cock until there was nothing left in your mind but the pleasure of my mouth.” Marcus smiled wistfully as sleep pulled him gently down, unseeing Esca’s shocked expression as he slurred, “We Romans think we should be ashamed, but us soldiers knew there was nothing wrong with a strong dick and a gentle mouth.”

Esca held his hands for a long time, wondering at his friend’s words, at this unexpected glimpse into things he had never imagined or hoped for. When he finally lay down, it was on Marcus’ bed, his arm wound around his friend’s chest and his head resting on the same pillow as he listened to Marcus’ calm, even breaths. 

*************

Warmth surrounded him, embraced him, and in his dreams he imagined the very sun had come to rest beside him, blessing him with its rays and holding him as a lover. His left leg, normally filled with pain and aching enough to set him trembling, was only a distant thought in his mind. 

He dreamt of working the horses with Esca, the two of them laughing and smiling as the smell of hay hung heavy in the air. Sun glinted off Esca’s hair, bringing out the red and gold strands that he longed to run his fingers through. 

In the way of dreams, he found himself lazing beside a stream, Esca, always Esca, drowsing beside him, a stalk of long grass between his teeth as their fingers twined together and Esca pointed to clouds, making sillier and sillier observations before Marcus could stand it no longer and tackled him.

The press of Esca’s body against his filled him with only love, and in the dream their lips pressed together, and fragrant grass wafted around them as they found pleasure in each other’s arms. 

When Marcus opened his eyes to morning, the warmth from his dream continued, wrapped around him tenderly and stroking a hand through his hair. For a moment he was not sure if he was awake or still on that hazy embankment. 

“Good morning, my Marcus,” Esca whispered, breath warm and slightly sour against his cheek, his cold nose pressing briefly against his neck. 

“Good morning,” Marcus said, uncertainty touching his words as Esca continued to stroke his hair. 

“How do you feel?” Esca asked, sliding his hand down the back of Marcus’ neck, over his shoulders, to rest upon his heart. “Your sleep seemed well last night.”

“It was very well,” Marcus assured, and then turned so that his forehead could rest against Esca’s. “For how very vile that herb is, I think it is a good thing.” 

“Hmmm,” Esca murmured, and then, as though it was the thousandth time and not the first, he pressed his lips to Marcus’.

It was a gentle kiss, as lazy as the one from his dreams, and so full of love and tenderness that Marcus could not question it. There may have been no words in either language to express the depths of his feelings for Esca, but their lips did not require words to speak. 

They lazed in the bed for a long time, kissing, running hands over strong shoulders and backs and learning the feel of each other anew. 

Finally, when the demands of their bodies grew too great to resist, they embraced completely, from chest to groin, and found their pleasure in the rub of cocks and sweat- slicked skin. 

“I think we will have to find more of this herb,” Esca finally said, breaking their contended silence and earning a deep laugh from Marcus.

“I agree.’

They kissed for a bit longer, then parted slowly as the new day beckoned them.


	2. Awakenings

Marcus ate well that morning, a fact which pleased Esca greatly, as his friend’s appetite had dwindled as the days grew colder, and his cheeks had taken on a hollow look. 

They broke their fast with honeyed bread and the remains of the stew, and when Marcus lifted Esca’s fingers to his mouth and licked them clean, it was a hard fought battle not to pull the other man back to the bed and have his way with him.

But the snow had fallen hard last night, and there were horses and goats to check on, as well as eggs to collect and property to survey, to make sure no damage had been done. 

With a lingering kiss which turned into three, then five, they slowly parted, Marcus’ eyes bright with happiness and his body moving more easily than it had in a long time, and Esca’s fingers trailing ghostly against his side as he passed. 

They spent the day much the same as they had all the others, tending to the farm and animals, but that night they again embraced lovingly under the covers, and slept well, warmed in each other‘s arms. 

The snow melted, then returned, a white blanket which covered the landscape and turned everything fresh and new, the days growing shorter and colder as Saturnalia approached. Marcus made arrangements with one of their local neighbors to tend the farm during the time they were away, visiting Uncle Aquila’s for the festivities. 

Esca, keeping one eye to the weather and the other to Marcus’ leg, knew it would not be an easy journey, even for how short the distance. 

“I’ll be fine,” Marcus grumbled, answering Esca’s unspoken concern with an annoyance he tried to temper. “It will only be a few days in the saddle and then we’ll be able to enjoy ourselves. My Uncle’s bath has grown a voice and is calling to me!”

Esca snorted, but his smile gentled as he turned to the task of packing. 

There were inns, of course, along the road, and patrols to try and contain the robbers and miscreants who were drawn by the lure of travelers, but that did not guarantee an easy trip. It would not be like north of the wall, but Esca had never liked leaving their safety in the hands of the Gods. 

That night, their mattresses pushed tightly together until they could make a new, larger one come spring, Esca held Marcus in his arms as was their new habit, and drifted lightly into sleep, his mind still whirling with details. 

It was the trembling which woke him, Marcus’ too warm body pressed close to his chest, so that Esca could feel the heat which radiated off of him. 

“Marcus,” Esca whispered, running a hand over his lover’s arm and feeling the sheen of sweat. “Marcus,” he said, louder, shaking him gently.

Marcus woke with a small gasp, his breath pulled in sharply with the softest of moans. 

“You are fevered,” Esca told him, for there was confusion in those dazed, green eyes. 

Marcus blinked at him sleepily, his hand shaking as it moved to rub at his brow, and the two of them sat up so Esca could escape their furs and make the bitter drink which helped Marcus on nights like these. 

“Esca,” Marcus protested, halfheartedly, as he knew the other would not listen to his words despite his need to utter them. “I’ll be fine come morning.”

“You will,” Esca agreed, and added the bitter Roman leaves to the undiluted wine. “Drink it all, and then sleep.”

Marcus grimaced as he took the cup and downed its contents quickly, licking his lips to remove the grainy feel from them. This potion was not as vile as the one which contained the pungent green herb, but it was not pleasant, either. 

Esca took the cup back and then settled once more on the bed, positioning Marcus as he wished, so the other’s head rested on his chest and he could lay his hand over his heart to feel the strong, steady beat. He ran cool fingers over the heated brow, up into Marcus’ hair and then back again, murmuring quite prayers to his God for a swift healing. It was a ritual, of a sorts, and soon Marcus’ breath evened out and he was sleeping soundly once more. 

Esca remained awake for a while longer, the fierceness of his love like a shield he wished to extend over them both, so no harm could ever befall them. 

**********

The journey took three days, with Esca insisting they shelter at an inn each night, despite the cost, for both their safety and Marcus’ health. The road had been well maintained, despite the snow that continued to fall, and no trouble had befallen them save for one small incident on the first day, when Esca’s horse had stumbled and nearly fallen, leaving the Briton with a sharp bruise on his chest for his efforts to remain in the saddle. 

Marcus pressed his lips to the spot that night, murmuring soft endearments and clucking over Esca like an overgrown chicken. The image had Esca biting his lip to keep the laughter at bay, and allowed Marcus to worship him under the scratchy covers. 

When they arrived at Uncle Aquila’s villa the sun had just reached its height, shining brightly overhead and giving a false sense of warmth. A layer of snow coated the ground, and shone like a million gems around them. 

It was Stephanos who greeted them at the gate, all wide smiles and effusive words. Of course, most of his comments were directed toward Marcus, as the older slave still looked warily at Esca, as though uncertain of what to make of him. 

Esca tried not to let it bother him, smiling tightly as Stephanos took the reigns and led their horses over to the stable. 

“Dinner will be chicken with mustacei,” Stephanos told them, his feet crunching loudly through the snow. “Sassttica has been cooking all day!”

“I can’t wait,” Marcus said, though the paleness of his face and lines about his eyes belied the pain he was in from being in the saddle and cold, and his appetite always decreased as his pain increased. “I take it we’ll have honey cakes as well?”

Stephanos made a rude sound. “Of course there will be honey cakes! What meal does not end with honey cakes?” 

Esca met Marcus’ eyes and smiled as Stephanos continued to grumble. 

*******  
There were indeed honey cakes that night.

Both men had taken a bath after settling their bags in Marcus’ old room, the hot water seeming to revive Marcus considerably, and Esca was pleased to see his friend eat with a hearty appetite. Uncle Aquila also seemed relieved at his nephew’s enjoyment of the meal and kept sliding dates or another bit of cake onto his plate. 

Marcus endured their hovering with good grace, and only scowled at his uncle when yet another honey cake was placed in front of him. 

“I’m going to grow fat!” he protested, putting the cake back on his uncle’s plate as he patted his finally chiseled stomach. “I feel like a stuffed goose!” 

“That is what the holidays are for!” Uncle Aquila protested, though he did not press further and smiled when Marcus‘ attention was turned away. 

They reclined on couches after the meal, sharing small talk of the farm and the latest news from Calleva, until Marcus was yawning nearly every other word, and even Esca’s eyes grew heavy from the wine and good food. Although he doubted he would ever catch onto the art of relaxing on the Roman furniture, he found it comfortable enough with Marcus leaning heavily against him. 

“Enough chatter from an old man,” Uncle Aquila finally relented, smiling at their sleepy gazes. “I think it’s time to retire.” 

They bid their good nights and left to their room, where a second cot had been placed next to Marcus’ old bed, extra furs and blankets piled at the foot. Without speaking they pushed the cots together, Marcus shifting the bedding until he felt satisfied while Esca rummaged in his saddle bag for the pouch he had carefully packed. 

“Esca,” Marcus sighed when he smelled the pungent green herb, narrowing his eyes as Esca set about grinding it and adding it to wine. 

“You have been feverish the past few nights, and your limp is more pronounced. This is a time of celebration, and I would have you be as healthy as possible to enjoy it.” He held out the cup, eyes steely as he waited for Marcus to take it.

There was a moment of tense silence as Marcus debated fighting before surrendering to the inevitable and taking the cup. He downed it quickly, holding his breath, and then shook his head and grimaced as the taste lingered on his tongue. 

“It gets no better the second time,” he observed, gratefully taking the cup of water Esca held out for him and downing it just as quickly. 

They did not wait for the concoction to take hold, as the ride had been long and they were both exhausted and travel weary. 

They arranged themselves easily on the bed, Esca pulling the blankets about them and making sure Marcus had an extra fur on his side, before dousing the lights and wrapping their arms about each other. 

They were both asleep in moments. 

******

 

He dreamt of Judea, of hot sand beneath his sandals and the sun too warm overhead. Of the ocean, and how the waters had been warm and filled with strange fish which nibbled on his toes and tickled his calves. The air filled with the smell of salt and brine, his ears hearing only the crashing of waves and the distant cry of birds.

When he woke in the morning Marcus was aware of two things: he was blessedly warm, and Esca was twined in his arms, still sleeping soundly. 

For long moments he lay there, feeling content and well in a way he seldom did in the winter months, his leg barely aching and his body warmed as though from a trip to the baths. 

There was no urgency to start the day, as they were guests and there was no work for them to do or chores to attend to. He allowed his eyes to close and let himself drift back to sleep, Esca’s arms tightening around him even in slumber.

They slept through the morning, the pale winter light embracing their still forms as peace settled heavily over the villa.


	3. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feasting, drinking, making merry. All is well until it isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta-ed, please let me know if you find any errors.

Marcus was singing. Esca did not think he was aware of this, for his voice was very soft and the words often unclear or mumbled, but he was singing, and Esca’s heart soared with the sound of it. 

It was not something the Roman did very often, for he claimed to have no voice for it, but when he was particularly happy he would hum or sing quietly to himself. Only when they were reaping in the fields, the work hot and monotonous, would he raise his voice and sing old marching songs or ballads on purpose. 

Now, however, he was peeling apples in preparation for the Saturnalia feast with Esca and his Uncle in Sassticca’s kitchen. 

“I am so happy to have you two with me this year,” Uncle Aquila said with a broad smile as he kneaded dough with strong fists. “This old man is not the greatest in the kitchens.”

“You do fine enough, Uncle,” Marcus assured as he concentrated on peeling, his hands swift and sure after cooking so many meals at his own hearth. “If not for Esca, we would be living off burnt bread and roasted chicken!”

“We did live off burnt bread and roasted chicken, until you saw reason and let me teach you!” Esca teased. 

They could smile about such things now, with no bitterness or anger between them at their unequal past, but there had been many days when Esca’s frustration had run over at his friend’s stubbornness and the two of them had shared numerous silent meals in the beginning. 

“At least Sassticca will not sharpen her tongue on us today,” Uncle Aquila said as he formed the bread into a semblance of a loaf and placed it on the cooking fire to bake. “You can tell her level of trust in us, as she left the meat on the spit to cook all night.”

“Shame, as Esca makes a very good lamb!” Marcus agreed, and then added his final apple to the bowl. “I am done with these, what next?”

Esca allowed himself a smile as both Aquilas turned their gaze to him, seeking orders. Although he had not been a slave for over two years, his time had been instructive, and he was the one who knew the layout of the kitchen best and what was needed for a grand meal. 

“Chopping,” he declared, putting the two Romans to their new task with a briskness any Centurion would have appreciated. “And then we must prepare the table.”

With two such willing helpers, and his own tasks set to, the work was swiftly done, and the Saturnalia feast proceeded without hindrance and to the sound of much laughter. 

***

They retired to their room very late that night, filled with the remnants of their feast and good wine. They leant on each other, unsteady in their steps but cheerful, and made quick work of preparing for bed. 

Esca made certain the shutters were secure and the door locked, and left only a single lamp by the bed as they retrieved the small gifts they had made for each other before their journey. 

For Esca, Marcus had carved a fine horse, it’s shape so well rendered Esca nearly expected it to leap out of his hand and canter off into the night. He admired it lovingly, placing a near chaste kiss on Marcus’ lips before presenting his own gift of a tooled and decorated leather belt. 

Marcus smiled so brightly the lines around his eyes became almost double, and he admired the craftsmanship with both fingers and eyes as he offered his thanks and his own kiss. 

They placed the gifts on the side table until the morrow, when they could once again examine them in better light, and fell into each other’s arms with the ardor of the drunk and truly happy. 

Their legs tangled together as they gracelessly rubbed their bodies, fingers entwined as they chased their release. Marcus trailed kisses over Esca‘s jaw and down his neck, while Esca sucked bruises into Marcus shoulder. They panted as they rubbed cocks, arching into each other before spilling. 

After, they breathed in tandem until their hearts calmed, then Esca cleaned them both with a rag and cold water, and Marcus pulled the covers over their heated flesh, and they slept the sleep of the stated. 

***

The next day dawned chill and overcast, a cold wind whipping through the villa and the scent of snow sharp in the air. 

Marcus burrowed deeper into his blankets until only his hair was visible, and bore Esca’s laughter with only a rude gesture before wrapping the furs tighter. Esca, seemingly untouched by yesterday’s indulgences, went about his morning ablutions with only a hiss at the temperature of the wash water. 

“Come, Marcus!” he called, wiping his dripping face with a dry rag. “A bath will help you feel better and warm you more than the bed!”

Marcus grumbled and seemed to pull tighter into himself.

“Marcus,” Esca sing-songed, moving to stand over his friend. “Come to the baths with me.” When Marcus still did not move, Esca’s fingers sought out his week points and started tickling him. “Marcus!”

“I yield!” Marcus laughed, curling into a ball until even the top of his head was covered by the blankets, trying to escape Esca’s attack. “I yield, dammit!”

Esca relented and waited as Marcus slowly uncurled.

“You are evil,” Marcus groaned as he pulled himself into a sitting position. 

His hair stood up on the left side, flattened on the right, and there were creases down his right cheek from the pillow. His eyes were bloodshot and goose pimples stood out on his arms as he shivered, despite still having the blankets and furs about him. 

“Come, my lovely,” Esca coaxed, retrieving Marcus’ tunic and house sandals and holding them out to him like an offering. “The sooner you are in the baths the sooner you’ll be warm.”

Marcus sighed but took the offered items, cursing at the cold as he stood on unsteady legs and dressed hurriedly. 

His uncle’s bath was attached to the house, and the hypocaust made certain the floors were not too chilly, but still he wasted no time in undressing and easing himself into the steaming waters. 

Esca laughed at his relieved sigh, watching in amusement as Marcus sank up to his neck in the water and let his head rest against the lip of the bath. 

“Better?” Esca asked as he slipped into the water next to him. 

“Better,” Marcus agreed, eyes closed in apparent bliss. 

They did not speak much as they bathed, but eventually Esca felt over-warm and made his way out, relishing the chill of the air as he dried off and made to dress again. 

“I’m going to find something to eat. Did you want to join me, or are you going to stay here for a while?” Esca asked.

“I’ll stay here for a bit,” Marcus mumbled, smiling over at his friend as Esca knelt to drop a quick kiss on his cheek. 

“Don’t stay in too much longer, your skin will not thank you,” Esca ordered.

“As you command,” Marcus agreed, letting his eyes slip closed as he sunk deeper into the water. 

When Esca returned after having sated his hunger, a plate of bread, cheese and fruit in his hand, Marcus was still up to his neck in the bath. 

Esca sighed as he prepared himself to drag his friend out. Literally, if he had to. 

***

Marcus ate little of the food Esca had brought, claiming a delicate head and stomach from the night before, but when he went to stand his left leg gave out on him, and only Esca’s quick reflexes saved him from a nasty fall. 

Neither spoke as Esca lead him over to the stone massage table and helped him lay down.

“I’ll be right back,” Esca murmured, resting his palm on Marcus’ shoulder in both warning and comfort before heading into the main house.

It took much longer than Marcus expected for Esca to make his way back, and he was just considering trying to make his way back to their room when Esca appeared, small jar held in one hand and cup of something steaming in another. 

The smell was instantly recognizable. 

“You didn’t tell Stephanos I was sick, did you?” he asked in horror, eyeing the cup as though it were about to bite him. 

“I ran into him after I had retrieved the liniment. He recognized it and asked if your leg was paining you.”

“I’m not drinking that,” Marcus said firmly, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bench, preparing to stand. “It makes me dull witted and sleepy.”

“Lay back down,” Esca ordered, pointing an imperious finger at Marcus until he obeyed with ill grace and a scowl. “I will work on your leg and then you will drink this and you can nap before dinner.”

Marcus grimaced but offered no further argument, and Esca nodded as he scooped the liniment into his palms and then set to work on massaging Marcus’ leg. 

The motions were familiar to both of them and after a few minutes Marcus relaxed completely, giving himself over to Esca’s skilled hands and care. Esca smiled as he ran his fingers, deft and knowledgeable of Marcus wound, over every knot and tender place until Marcus was near sleeping with contentment and the lines around his eyes had eased. 

“Sit up,” Esca said softly, and placed his arm around Marcus’ back to help him, then held the still warm cup of healing drought to his lips and watched as he drank with a grimace. 

Next he helped Marcus dress before lending him his shoulder to lean on as they made their way back to the room and Marcus could collapse on the bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow, leaving Esca to remove his sandals and arrange the blankets. 

***

Marcus slept the deep slumber of the drugged until dinner was announced, and was still groggy as he made his way to the great table, keeping his hand on Esca’s shoulder as though uncertain of his balance.

Thankfully, his uncle did not comment on his sleep wrinkled appearance or his puffy eyes, but merely smiled warmly as dinner was served, turning his attention to Esca instead and engaging him with talk of their horses and farm and what their plans were for the future. 

Marcus ate what was placed in front of him, seeming content to let the conversation wash over him, and didn’t complain when his uncle slipped more dates and fruit into his bowl. He avoided the wine and drank water instead, but pleaded fatigue when the meal was over and made his way back to the bedroom, leaving Esca to continue talking with his uncle. 

Though he had spent most of the day sleeping, he barely managed to undress and climb into the bed before succumbing once more to slumber, not even stirring when Esca joined him some hours later.

***

“Marcus.”

The voice was familiar, accented, filled with humor and easy camaraderie. 

“Centurion, open your eyes. It’s a beautiful day for a race!”

“Cradoc,” Marcus whispered, forcing his eyes open despite the fatigue that weighed them down. 

The sun shone brightly above though there was little warmth to be found beneath the trees where he stood, Cradoc standing opposite him with his familiar smile pulling at his lips. Blood dripped from the wound in his chest, and in his hand the very spear that had killed him.

“Come, Marcus, and race me!” Cradoc beckoned, his eyes the terrible milky white of death as he threw his arms wide, blood splattering warm and sticky on Marcus’ face. “Come, my friend!”

Cradoc drew back the arm holding the spear but Marcus’ feet were rooted, his body paralyzed even as his mind screamed at him to defend himself. He was wearing his Centurion armor, the helmet heavy upon his head, but his sword was at his side and all he would have to do would be to raise it. His arms did not move. 

“I curse you!”

The voice of the Druid echoed throughout the clearing even as the man appeared suddenly beside Cradoc, his neck bent unnaturally as his eyes bore into Marcus’ with such hatred he felt burnt from it. 

“I curse you!” he bellowed again, and Cradoc threw the spear.

Pain lanced through Marcus as his thigh was pierced, his body shuddering as though it would tear itself apart. 

“Come, Marcus!” Cradoc teased, holding out blood stained hands. “Come race with me!”

The Druid moved with inhuman speed, appearing right in Marcus’ face as he drove his hands down upon the spear in Marcus’ leg, agony ripping through him until he felt certain he would die from it. 

“Marcus!”

“I curse you!”

“Marcus!”

“Come race with me!”

“Marcus!”

Esca stood suddenly beside him, face fierce and strong, every inch of him the chieftain’s son. He was wearing only the leather braccae from the gladiator arena, his body smeared with mud and blood, but his bearing unbowed. 

“Marcus, wake up!” Esca yelled, and slapped a stunning blow across Marcus’ cheek. 

Marcus woke with a curse, flailing and gasping for breath as he tried to untangle his limbs from the blankets wrapped around him. Beside him, Esca whispered soothing words and sounds, his hands hovering over Marcus’ shoulders as though afraid to spook him with touch. 

“Marcus, it was a dream, only a dream, hush, shhhh, only a dream.” Esca’s voice was soft, concern sharpening his accent as he watched Marcus struggle to wake fully.

Marcus brought in ragged gasps of breath, his chest tight and painful, his throat raw as though he had been screaming. His leg felt as though it were on fire, his thigh cramping and knotted with tension. 

“Esca?” Marcus rasped, his voice hoarse with the desperate need to be reassured. 

“It’s just me, just a dream, my Marcus, hush now,” Esca soothed. 

Finally the Briton placed a hand to Marcus’ shoulder, feeling the muscles jump and twitch beneath his fingers, sweat making the skin slick and clammy. 

“Just me, Marcus,” Esca assured. “Only a dream.” He pulled Marcus’ head down until it rested on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around him as though to shield him from the terrors in his mind. “Just a dream, hush now, hush.”

Esca could feel Marcus’ heart beating rapidly, the harsh gasps for air warm against his neck. He rubbed soothing circles against his back, and continued to murmur reassurance until Marcus finally started to calm.

Once he began to shiver in the chill night air, Esca pulled away and wrapped the blankets back around Marcus’ shoulders, cupping his jaw as he tried to make out his friend’s face in the dark. 

“Did you slap me?” Marcus finally asked, confusion and weariness making his voice thick. 

“Yes. You were crying out in your sleep and would not wake otherwise.”

“Thank you.” 

Marcus pressed his forehead against Esca’s, breathing deeply and slowly, and allowed the last vestiges of the dream to fade. He clung to Esca, hands pressed tight to warm skin, taking comfort in the strong arms which held him. 

“It is almost morning,” Esca murmured finally, rubbing his hands gently up Marcus’ back. “Come, you can sit in the baths for a bit and then I’ll massage your leg.”

“Yes,” Marcus agreed, pulling himself away from Esca’s firm comfort reluctantly. “None of Stephano’s foul brew, though. I won’t touch it again,” Marcus swore, wiping a hand over his face and grimacing at the feel of chilled sweat. 

“No, none of that. If your leg still bothers you after the bath, I’ll make you a drink with the green herb.”

Marcus nodded, then slowly untangled his limbs from the blankets still wrapped around him and stood with Esca’s help. 

They made their slow, shuffling way to the baths and disrobed in silence. Esca lit a single lamp and then helped Marcus into the water, sitting next to him as the warmth eased their tensed muscles and removed the last traces of the nightmare. 

They bathed for nearly an hour, then Esca worked on Marcus’ leg until he could stand again unaided, and they made their way back to their bedroom. 

“I think I am up for the rest of the day,” Marcus said softly once they were back in their room, the first light of dawn slowly banishing the darkness. 

“After we break our fast we can go for a ride. The horses could use the exercise.” 

“And so could we,” Marcus agreed, smiling faintly for the first time since he had woken. “Let us go see if Sassticca has anything to eat.”

Esca clasped a hand to Marcus’ shoulder as they made their way to the kitchen, a steady presence lending his strength without question or judgment. Marcus would never be able to tell him with words how much he appreciated him, but he made sure that Esca had the sweetest fruit and softest of cheese. 

They spoke little as they readied the horses, leaving a message with the stable boy for Marcus’ uncle about their whereabouts, and then they set out for the day, just the two of them in the quiet of the dawn.


	4. An Apple a Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I researched as much as I could regarding the herbal remedies and what would be available at the time, but if you find anything amiss please let me know.

They road aimlessly for most of the morning, no set destination in their minds as they wandered the property. Esca had brought his bow and quiver in case any hunting presented itself, but the world was silent and calm with the white of new snow casting a hush about the lands. 

When they returned to the villa, Sassticca had lunch waiting for them, warm soup and fresh bread that warmed their insides. 

After, Uncle Aquila cajoled Marcus into a game of latrunculi, and Esca made a hasty excuse before fleeing without his usual grace. Marcus laughed as he watched him go, knowing full well his hatred for the game, and settled in to try and best his uncle.

Several hours later, and several games, the sun was beginning to set and his stomach was rumbling. With a resigned sigh he signaled his surrender, and the game pieces were put away as they prepared to head to dinner. 

“And what will you two do tomorrow?” Uncle Aquila asked as they walked to the dinning room, sandal-ed feet making little sound on the warmed tiles underfoot. 

“I’m not sure,” Marcus replied truthfully. “If the weather permits, perhaps we will head to the market.”

“Good, good,” his uncle agreed, patting his shoulder as he moved to sit at the head of the table. 

Esca joined them shortly after, his cheeks rosy from having been outdoors, his smile wide as he sat across from Marcus and gently nudged his foot with his own. Marcus smiled down at his plate and nudged him back. 

“What have you been up to?” Marcus asked, grinning at the healthy color in his friend’s face and his tousled hair. 

“A bit of this, bit of that,” Esca replied impishly, and grinned mischievously when no further answer was coming. 

Marcus grinned back and nudged his foot again, missing his Uncle’s hidden smile. 

***

That night Esca again made the drought with the green herb, Marcus grimacing as he downed it quickly, followed by a cup of water, and then curled up tightly on the bed as they discussed plans for the next day.

“I spoke with Stephanos this afternoon while you were playing that cursed game, and he said there is an herb seller at the market with more of the green herb. I want to stock up while we’re here.”

“Hmmm,” Marcus hummed, his body already starting to feel heavy and languid. 

“We should also look for some more cloth, that pair of braccae you wear is about to fall apart, and come spring I doubt it will survive the planting. Not that I would mind seeing you walk around naked, but I don‘t want to share the view with anyone passing.”

“Yes,’ Marcus agreed absently, and ran his hand lazily over Esca’s arm. His eyes were closed and his breathing had started to settle into a deeper rhythm.

“And your Uncle has been so generous, I was thinking a new latrunculi board, or perhaps a new game, one that isn’t so damned annoying.”

Marcus yawned in reply.

“And perhaps a new stola for myself.”

“Of course,” Marcus mumbled. A moment later Marcus sat up and stared down at his friend with large, unfocused eyes. “Wait, what?”

At Marcus’ expression Esca burst into laughter, pulling the other man back down, running a hand through his hair. 

“I tease. I was just seeing if you were actually listening to me,” Esca explained, unrepentant as he continued to laugh.

Even after all they had been through, or perhaps because of it, Esca full out laughing was a rare and precious gift, and the sound of it sparked a fierce joy in Marcus that soon had him joining in, until the two of them were breathless and hiccuping with it. 

“You would look very fine in a stola,” Marcus giggled, his leg rubbing against Esca’s. “Blue, for your eyes.”

“Silly,” Esca murmured fondly. “Go to sleep now, lovely.”

Marcus smiled sweetly at him, resting his forehead against Esca’s before he closed his eyes and sighed happily. 

Esca continued to watch him long after he had fallen into a deep sleep, warmth blossoming through his chest as he wondered at the fortune the Gods had decided to bestow upon him. 

***

The next morning, after a quick bath and a filling breakfast, the two made their way on horseback to the market, a list of everything they sought shared between them. 

They chatted amiably about silly things, trying to get the other to blush or laugh, and Esca had by far won the contest by the time they arrived. Marcus’ cheeks were still red from his friend’s last comment, and Esca wore a proud smirk and sat a little straighter in his saddle. 

“Honestly, for a centurion, you blush so prettily!” Esca teased as they made their way to a tavern where they could leave the horses and get a drink before heading back to the villa. 

Marcus didn’t deign to comment, dismounting with only a slight limp and passing a coin to the young man who came out to greet them. He waited until they were walking down the street to the center of the market before he said, “Esca, your mouth would make the Gods themselves blush!”

Esca’s smirk, if possible, became even larger, and he winked over at Marcus before he steered him to the first stall.

They spent the day lazily strolling about the market, taking their time in finding their purchases, and enjoying each other’s company. Though it was still bitterly cold out, and the streets more mud than snow, neither could complain, each happy to simply be with the other. 

They took a break from shopping to purchase bread and cheese, then sat on a bench and ate in companionable silence as they watched those around them with amusement. 

When they finally made their way to the herb seller, a small shop below where the herb seller lived, Marcus’ limp had become more pronounced, and Esca stood a bit closer to his side as they entered. 

“Good day,” a young boy of perhaps eight or nine greeted them from where he sat behind a small table, making sachets. His dark skin and side lock of hair marked him as Egyptian, though he had very little accent in his Latin.

“Good day,” Marcus greeted, looking around the shop with a small frown. The smell of herbs was heavy in the air and brought back memories of his days as an invalid. 

“We are looking for some specific herbs,” Esca said. “Your shop was recommended to us.”

The boy carefully set aside the half filled sachet and stood. 

“My father will be able to help you. I’ll be right back.” 

He bowed slightly before making his way up the staircase in the back, and Esca wandered over to some of the herbs drying along the wall. 

“We will need more willow bark for certain, as well as red valerian and chamomile,” Esca murmured. 

“Which are the ones that taste most foul?” Marcus asked, and Esca turned to grin at him. 

“If I tell you, you’ll find some way to avoid them,” he mock scolded, then added, more seriously. “Maybe you should head to the cloth seller while I finish here.”

Marcus thought for a moment, then sneezed three times in quick succession, and that seemed to make up his mind. 

“Meet back at the tavern?” he asked as he headed to the door. 

Esca nodded and watched him leave, then turned as a man descended the steps, followed by the young boy of before. 

“Good day,” he greeted in a deep, heavily accented voice. “I am Kheti the herbalist, my son tells me I have been recommended to you. How may I be of service?”

He wore British tunic and braccae, though his head was shaved in the manner of his people and an amulet could be seen peeking above the collar of his tunic. His skin was darker even than his son’s, and his wrists were ornamented with heavy looking bracelets. He looked to be in his forties or perhaps early fifties, but his face was clean shaven and the lines around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. 

“Good day,” Esca murmured as the man followed his son to the little table he had been working at before. “Stephanos, the slave of Lucius Aquila, said you would have the pungent green herb I am looking for. My friend was wounded several years ago, and finds the relief it brings helpful.”

“Ah, yes, Aquila’s nephew. I remember when he was brought here, Stephanos was in my shop every week. It has been some time, but if I remember correctly, he had injured his leg?” the man asked. 

Esca nodded.

“How does it pain him? My son said there was another man with you, I take it that was him?” As he spoke Kheti moved to retrieve a box from one of the shelves lining the walls.

“Yes. The smell of herbs is not easy on him,” Esca said, though he was reluctant to divulge too much of Marcus’ confidence to this stranger. “The cold is no friend to his leg, and he has been waking at night with fevers, though the wound has long healed.”

“This is common with such a type of wound,” Kheti explained reassuringly, opening the box and releasing the pungent scent of the herb. “The cold stiffens the muscles and the body thinks it must heat itself up. Once spring comes, he does better, yes?”

“Yes, much. He loses weight in the winter, too, as his pain takes away his appetite.” 

“This herb is good for that as well. I receive shipments regularly and you are in luck that I had one not too long ago. I cannot give you my entire supply, but I think there should be enough to help you through the rest of this winter. May I also suggest some other things to help?” Kheti offered. 

His voice was gentle, even with the harsh accent, and Esca found himself nodding in agreement. Anything that would help Marcus to suffer less during the cold would be useful. 

The two of them spoke for nearly an hour, going over the different herbs that would help with fever, pain and loss of appetite. 

Finally, Esca hesitated for a moment before speaking, knowing Marcus would not be pleased to be discussed thus, but wanting to make sure all was covered before they left the market, perhaps not to return for another year. 

“Sometimes, I think his stomach bothers him, from the herbs. Is there a way to make them less harsh?” he asked. “He is less inclined to take them if he thinks he will be in the latrine too often. He is - he is very shy, and prideful.” 

“This, too, is common,” Kheti assured, and there was only sympathy in his dark eyes, no judgment or humor. “Do you have a garden?”

“Yes, a good one,” Esca nodded, and Kheti smiled at his pride. 

“Good. If he has not already planted it, mint will help with many of these herbs, and decrease some of the bitterness. Mixing it with the others can help with the stomach issues and, perhaps, make them a little more palatable.”

“Oh, we have mint,” Esca said confidently, smiling. He heard the young boy snort and looked over to see him grinning even as his eyes were kept on his work. “Marcus complains every summer that it tries to take over his garden and is constantly pulling it.”

“Good! I’ll give you instructions on how to prepare that with some apple, the bark or the fruit, whichever is available. I’ll get everything ready for you, with instructions. Can you read?” Kheti asked, almost as an afterthought. 

“A little,” Esca admitted. “But if you tell me the instructions, I will remember.”

“Good.”

It was another half hour before Esca departed, several sachets of herbs carefully prepared and all of them bundled into a soft cloth and tied neatly. He made his way back to the tavern, where Marcus was waiting for him, his own purchases at his feet and a cup of something warm steaming on the table.

They smiled in greeting, and Esca carefully set his parcel on top of Marcus’, taking a sip from his cup and grinning at the warmed cider as he sat. 

“How went the shopping?” he asked as another steaming cup was placed in front of him. 

“Good. You no longer have to fear for my modesty, as I purchased enough cloth to make at least two new pairs of braccae, which should last for some time. And yours?” Marcus asked, nodding toward the parcel on top of his.

“Very good,” Esca confirmed. “He’s the herbalist who helped Stephanos when you first arrived in Calleva. He had some good recommendations to help.”

He did not mention all they had discussed, not in so public a spot. Though many Romans seemed to have no such issue discussing such bodily functions, Marcus was in this, as in so many things, not quite as Roman as he appeared. Esca would wait until they were back at the villa before he explained. 

Marcus gave him a slightly quizzical expression but did not press, and the two of them enjoyed their ciders and easy conversation. When they finally left the tavern, two cups of cider each in them, they were both relaxed and smiling, chatting easily as they stowed their packages and readied their horses. 

It was, therefore, a bit of a shock when they were attacked before they had even left the stable.


	5. Peace

There were five of them, men dressed in filthy British tunics and braccae and wielding knives. They had been hiding in one of the empty stables, apparently just waiting for the two of them, as theirs were the only horses currently at the tavern. They surrounded them, cutting off their exit and startling the horses with their sudden appearance.

Marcus met Esca’s stare, eyes hard as he asked silently if he were ready, and Esca gave the barest of nods.

Without waiting for one of the brigands to make a move, Marcus lunged at the nearest, his knife, always on his belt, out and stabbing with a ferocity that still took Esca’s breath away. He could almost feel sorry for the pathetic little group.

“Get the cripple! We’ll take the short one!” one of the men yelled in British.

“Cripple?” Marcus snarled, and Esca would have winced if he weren’t just as incensed.

“Short one?” he demanded, ducking under a sloppy blow and delivering one much more fatal as he swung his own knife at the attacker’s stomach and hit his mark.

Marcus’ and Esca’s skills far surpassed those of their attackers, and within a few minutes the fight was over, four men dead and the fifth running away with a wound to his shoulder.

For a moment the two of them stood there, breathing hard as they scanned the area for any further threats, the horses shifting uneasily and making frightened noises. Then the young tavern keeper came barreling around the corner, face pale as new milk as he took in the scene and immediately bolted back the way he had come, calling for the guard.

“Son of a _bitch _!” Marcus cursed, making as though to follow him, but Esca’s hand on his arm halted him.__

__“I don’t think he was involved,” Esca said softly, looking at the men dead at their feet. “Let the guards handle this, and we should be on our way soon.”_ _

__Marcus’ scowl deepened, but he nodded, and moved to place a calming hand on his horse. He leaned heavily against the stall door, shoulders slumping, and a grimace twisted his face for just a moment._ _

__“Are you injured?” Esca demanded, moving to his side, but Marcus shook his head even as Esca scanned him for any sign of a wound._ _

__“Just my leg,” Marcus assured him, and managed a slight smile before the sound of running feet had both of them ready to defend themselves again._ _

__Seven armed legionnaires came running around the corner, swords at the ready, but stopped in their tracks when they saw the scene before them._ _

__“I am Marcus Flavius Aquila, former centurion of the Fourth Cohort of Gaul!” Marcus declared, meeting the eyes of the commander of the guard with a steady gaze. He raised his arms, pulling back his cloak to show his armilla on his left wrist. “My friend and I were attacked as we were preparing to leave. One of the men got away, but he was wounded in the shoulder. We were merely defending ourselves.”_ _

__“You are Lucius Aquila’s nephew, correct?” the commander asked, lowering his sword and nodding to his men to do the same. They complied, and Esca felt his shoulders relax._ _

__“Yes, we came for Saturnalia and were just doing some shopping today,” Marcus explained._ _

__“I am Felix Marcellus Maximus, _tesserarius _of the city guard. Do either of you require a surgeon?” Felix asked as he sheathed his sword.___ _

____“No, we are uninjured,” Marcus assured, then shifted to rest his hand on Esca‘s shoulder, who was still watching the guards warily. “Are we free to go? Only, it is getting late, and we still have to head back to my Uncle’s villa.”_ _ _ _

____Felix eyed them for a moment, then nodded, motioning for them to carry on as he turned back to his men._ _ _ _

____Marcus quickly wiped off his bloody blade and sheathed it, watching Esca do the same, then the both of them mounted their still spooked and fidgeting horses. Marcus was too filled with adrenaline to feel any pain in his leg, though he know he would suffer for it tonight._ _ _ _

____“If I have any questions for you, Aquila, you will be at your uncle’s?” Felix called as the two of them exited the stables._ _ _ _

____“Yes, for another week, then we head home to our farm.”_ _ _ _

____Felix nodded and motioned them once more to be on their way, and the two wasted no time spurring their horses on. The sun was still in the sky, but already the shadows were growing and neither of them wished to be on the road after dark._ _ _ _

____“They called me short,” Esca finally grumbled, half to himself, half to Marcus, his eyes darting about the road as though he expected to be set upon again at any time._ _ _ _

____“Better short than a cripple,” Marcus said tersely. “ _Bastards _,” he added bitterly.___ _ _ _

______“Aye, I think the world will not miss them,” Esca agreed._ _ _ _ _ _

______They spoke very little for the rest of the ride, each of them trying to calm and not drive their horses to unwise speeds as the darkness grew. Finally, just as Helios finished his journey and the last of the rays vanished into darkness, Uncle’s villa appeared before them, and they both breathed easier._ _ _ _ _ _

______***_ _ _ _ _ _

______They told their tale over dinner, though neither of them had much of an appetite. Uncle Aquila listened with a solemn expression, and when the story was done, he rested his hand on Marcus’ shoulder._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m glad the both of you are all right. Perhaps it would be best if you called it an early evening, after the day you’ve had.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Marcus covered his uncle’s hand with his own, squeezing it gently._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I won’t say I’m not tired, but perhaps tomorrow will be a bit quieter,” he said hopefully._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well, be off with you then,” Uncle Aquila urged, and smiled gently at both of them as he stood. “Tomorrow you can show me what you have obtained from the market.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Marcus and Esca wished him good night, then made their way to the baths, as both men felt grimy from the muddy streets and the fight, short as it had been. They took turns scrubbing each other’s backs, letting hands linger as they traced kisses over shoulders and the backs of necks._ _ _ _ _ _

______They did not speak, moving as in sync as they had in battle, Esca positioning himself atop Marcus’ lap and pressing gentle kisses to his lips as their hands wandered._ _ _ _ _ _

______The caresses were as much to reaffirm their bond as it was to reassure each other that neither had taken harm, and when Marcus took them both in hand, Esca let his eyes close and tipped his forehead to rest against the Roman‘s, enjoying the pleasure being wrung from the strong, calloused hands._ _ _ _ _ _

______Marcus spent first, but was followed closely by Esca, and the two of them lingered in the water, letting their breath calm and the heat soak away any traces of tension. When they finally pulled themselves from the bath only a single lamp sputtered on one of the benches, casting them in shadow as they dried each other off and then dressed to return to their room._ _ _ _ _ _

______They held hands as they walked, for the household was safely asleep and neither wanted to relinquish the other yet. It was only as they entered the room that they parted, Esca making sure the shutters were secure and locked and Marcus moving to Esca’s travel bag._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I think tonight, we can both use this,” he said softly, the first words he had spoken since they had left dinner._ _ _ _ _ _

______He held up the little pouch which contained the green herb, and Esca eyed him curiously as he set about grinding the little buds into powder. As Marcus worked, Esca stripped out of his clothes, shivering slightly in the chilled air, though his skin was still warmed from the baths._ _ _ _ _ _

______He retrieved the pitcher of wine which had been placed on the bedside table by a diligent slave, and poured a small amount into the two cups beside it. He offered both to Marcus, who measured the powder evenly into each. He then stirred the concoction as fully as he could, and made certain that there was fresh water for both of them before handing one of the cups to Esca._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Best to drink it fast,” he teased, repeating Esca’s words back to him._ _ _ _ _ _

______Esca kept his eyes on Marcus as he drained the cup in one swallow, though he couldn’t help the grimace that twisted his lips, nor the cough that had him squinting his eyes closed._ _ _ _ _ _

______“That _is _worse than raw rat,” he finally gasped, taking the offered water and downing that just as quickly. “Though I didn’t think it possible.”___ _ _ _ _ _

________Marcus laughed as he drained his own cup, followed by the water, and then stripped off his tunic and sandals. The two of them crawled under the furs to wrap their arms around each other, entwined as tightly as they could be._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I love you,” Marcus whispered very softly as he began to drift off to sleep, his words more breath than sound._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Esca felt his heart give a little lurch at the words, but already his eyes were growing heavy, and his thoughts were starting to drift._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I love you,” he repeated back, and placed a tender kiss to Marcus’ cheek, knowing the other was already asleep._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________***_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He dreamt of the stream by his childhood home, where he and his brothers had bathed and played with the other boys of his clan. He dreamt of the sunlight shining warm through the leaves overhead, and the sound of laughter ringing in his ears._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________When he looked to his side he found Marcus lying on the bank next to him, naked and bronzed in the summer sun. They smiled sweetly at each other, hands entwined, as the water gurgled softly before them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He dreamt of his mother’s voice, singing softly as she wove, and his father, lecturing his brother on some matter or other. He dreamt of life as he had known it, only with Marcus by his side, and slowly, as in the way of dreams, the stream shifted to the little one on their farm, and the scent of hay hung heavy in the air._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He wrapped his arms around Marcus as the sweet longing for home gentled, and felt strong arms envelop him in safety and security as he had not known since he was a small child._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The sound of his mother singing continued to linger, her voice gentle and serene in the warm summer air. He had forgotten her voice, and the way she had always sung as she went about her day._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________When he woke the next morning, still wrapped in Marcus’ arms, his love sleeping deeply beside him, he felt no shame as he wiped the tears from his cheeks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________***_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Marcus woke to a soft voice singing gently beside him, the words at first not making sense to his sleepy mind, but the tone happy and content. He felt arms tighten around him, and burrowed his face deeper into Esca’s neck, feeling the soft vibration as he continued to sing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Esca’s hand slowly wound through his hair, stroking him gently into full wakefulness, until they both lay silent and calm, content to let the day start slowly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Did you sleep well?” Marcus finally asked, moving to blink sleepily at Esca’s smiling face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________His friend seemed different, somehow. More at peace than Marcus could remember seeing him, his eyes gentle and loving as he gazed at Marcus as though memorizing his every feature._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I slept very well,” Esca finally answered, and kissed Marcus close-mouthed on the lips, rubbing his nose against Marcus’ when he pulled back. “And you?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Very well,” Marcus agreed, and found himself smiling to match Esca’s._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________They lay there for a long time, simply gazing into each other’s eyes, trading sweet kisses and lingering touches, until the sounds of the villa coming to life began to intrude, and both silently agreed that it was time to leave their little nest and venture forth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________***_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________They presented Marcus’ uncle with the new game board they had purchased the day before over breakfast, much to the older man’s delight. He insisted on playing a game right after they had broken their fast, and Esca, mischievous smile once more on his lips, gestured that Marcus should do as requested._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“What will you be doing?” Marcus asked, though he did not expect an answer, and none was given, save for a wicked grin and a shrug of the shoulders._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I’ll see you at noon-meal,” Esca promised, and left with a little wave as Marcus made his way to his uncle’s study, where the game board had already been set up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He did not even mind that he lost almost immediately._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	6. A New Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I've had some health issues which have made writing difficult. As always, please let me know if you find any errors.

Although Marcus loved a good game of latrunculi, even he had to admit that losing to his uncle three times in a row took away some of the enjoyment. When Stephanos appeared in the doorway, signaling the noon-day meal was ready, he was more than happy to put the game pieces away. 

There was fresh fish, and boiled eggs, along with a thick, chewy bread covered in nutty paste. His uncle took his usual spot at the head of the table, already reaching for some of the bread, while Marcus debated whether he should sit or try to seek out Esca. 

He was spared the decision when the Briton arrived, still wearing his heavy travel cloak, cheeks red from the cold and a large lump hidden in his arms. 

“What -” Marcus began to ask, but was silenced when a soft whimper filled the air. 

“A present,” Esca said, his smile large and bright as he pulled back his cloak to reveal the small wolf-hound held securely to his chest. 

“A gift from me to the both of you,” Uncle Aquila clarified, his own smile vibrant as he smugly started to fill his plate. 

Marcus could not find the words to describe the warmth filling his chest, so instead he made his way over to Esca and held out his arms for the tiny creature. It’s wiry fur tickles his nose as he bent his head to breath in its scent, and it wiggled as Esca placed the hound into his arms. 

Marcus cooed at the small pup and held it firmly to his breast, feeling its rapid heartbeat and smiling as it licked his chin with enthusiastic puppy kisses. 

“What shall we call him?” Esca asked, taking a seat at the table and sharing a self-satisfied look with the elder Aquila. 

“He’s such a tiny thing,” Marcus mused, not moving from where he stood, rather enraptured by the wiggling creature in his arms. “How about… Cub?’

“He will grow bigger,” Uncle Aquila reminded him with an amused smile. 

“That’s all right. You will always be our little Cub, won’t you?” Marcus asked the puppy, and was rewarded by another lick. 

“Come sit down and eat, Marcus,” his uncle finally ordered, when it became apparent that his nephew would be content to stand there the rest of the day. “I’m sure he’s hungry, too.”

Esca beamed as Marcus sat beside him, rather than at his usual seat across the table, and the two of them spent the remainder of the meal feeding scraps to their new addition, until finally the puppy fell asleep, stomach rounded and contented snores filling the dinning room. 

***

“So this is where you have been spending your time,” Marcus said softly as he watched Cub chase his tail, weaving circles in the snow and then wobbling around dizzily until he did it again.

“Yes. The other night, when you retired early, your uncle told me about his gift and wanted me to pick out the pup. His neighbor’s bitch had a litter a few months ago, and promised your uncle one.” Esca smiled fondly as Cub ran over to one of the stone benches and attempted to climb onto it. “He’s going to be a handful!”

“He’s perfect,” Marcus sighed.

Esca thought he had never seen him so happy, his friend’s smile filled with contentment and peace as he watched the puppy continue to explore his new world. Then Marcus turned to face him, and the wonder and joy in his eyes had Esca’s own widening in surprise. 

“You are perfect,” Marcus whispered and, after a quick glance around, leaned forward and kissed Esca on the lips.

Esca felt warmth bloom in his chest, warm and bright, filling the last of the dark places which had shadowed his life since the Romans had killed his people. Now there was only contentment for the new life he had carved out for himself with his strange little family. 

There were no words to let Marcus know of these things, but he seemed to understand anyway. His friend’s eyes softened, and his smile grew as he leaned forward and cupped Esca’s cheek gently with his large hand. 

They did not need words to speak what was in their hearts.

***

That night Cub lay nestled at their feet as they entwined their bodies on the too-small bed, Esca’s head resting on Marcus’ chest as they whispered sleepily to each other. The sounds of the villa filtered distantly into their room, different from the noises of their own home, but familiar and comforting nonetheless. 

Tomorrow they would go hunting, and then Marcus had plans to start training Cub so he could assist them in the future. Esca hoped his friend’s optimism was not misplaced, as the little hound had shown only the sweetest of dispositions.   
“When we go back home I shall teach him to chase the geese,” Marcus teased, smiling at Esca’s mock scowl.

“At least give him a sporting chance,” Esca argued. “The poor thing will not stand a chance against that gander!”

The two of them giggled quietly at the image, settling more comfortably under the blankets and inching just a tiny bit closer to each other. 

“I never thought I would again have a home,” Esca finally whispered, entwining his fingers with Marcus’ as he closed his eyes. “I am glad I was wrong.”

Marcus gently squeezed his fingers, rubbing his foot against Esca’s. 

“Me, too,” he said softly. 

They both fell into a deep slumber not long after, their heads resting upon the pillow, noses almost touching as their breaths mingled and Cub whistled his puppy snores. The world settled, quiet and calm, and their sleep was deep and untroubled.


End file.
